Page 15 of Afterglow
I blink errantly, bringing myself back to reality and Dr. Chhabra explaining concussion protocol.
“Is there anyone you can call to stay with you for the next two weeks while you recover? Family?”
“Not family,” Fletcher replies.
“Maybe a friend,” I interject, lowering my voice to a whisper when the golden hues of Fletcher’s eyes lock with mine. “Or a teammate.”
“It’s the offseason. They’re all on vacation.”
Oh, right. Landon and Indi are in India for Esha’s wedding and Akhila’s second-first birthday party. And Wade and Gabe went to Florida.
“There’s no one?” the doctor asks.
Fletcher shrugs, pushing an ache into my chest. Does he really have no one else?
“What about you?”
I gape at the doctor and rest a finger on my sternum. “Me?”
“Yeah. Officer Owens said you knew each other.”
“I mean, ‘know’ is pretty loosely defined here.” The thought of living with the man of my dreams catches me off guard. And nervous. And when I’m nervous, I ramble. “Like, yes, he’s my friend’s husband’s teammate, so ‘we know each other’”—my fingers form air-quotes—“but who really knows anyone in this vast ocean of life?”
Dr. Chhabra lifts a curious eyebrow. He’s speechless.
Fletcher pushes out a deep sigh, visibly exhausted. “She can stay with me.”
My eyes widen and widen further when he subsequently falls asleep.
“It’s settled then.”
“No offense, Doctor. But I have no idea how to care for someone in this…situation.”
“Absolutely no worries. He’s severely concussed, but he’s going to be fine. I’ll have a nurse go through the protocol with you. And can connect you with someone who can check on him at home.”
I guess it is settled then.
I’ll be living with Fletcher Donovan for two weeks.
Chapter 5
The Subject of My Obsession Has Been Living in My House
Fletcher
Wade was right.
All I’ll be doing this summer is reading and jacking off.
Between this concussion and Behraz Irani traipsing around my apartment in those tiny, flouncy dresses, my head’s gonna implode.
The first two days are absolute torture. I can’t get out of bed without feeling nauseated or disoriented, or both. The room spins every time I stand, and I’m not sure if it’s from the brain injury or Behraz holding me up. She’s surprisingly strong, considering I’m probably a foot taller and at least seventy pounds heavier. I’m goaded back into bed each time with a shush.
My temporary roommate seems to be both ever-present and absent. I barely see her, but I smell her goddamn rose perfume everywhere. It’s intoxicating and infuriating.
All the while, I don’t have to worry about anything else but healing. Not sure if Behraz called her friends or my teammates, or if Landon sent a cleaning crew and Wade asked his private chef to come over, but dirty laundry disappears and returns to my closet clean and folded, and the fridge and pantry are fully stocked. Like clockwork, thoughtful meals appear in the kitchen. Avocado toast, topped with sliced hard-boiled eggs. Hot oatmeal with walnuts and seeds. Salmon with sweet potatoes and green beans. Blueberry smoothies and lemony kale salads with cranberries and cilantro dressing so good I want to bathe in it.
And don’t get me started on the hearty stew served with brown rice and a cucumber salad. It has lentils and veggies, some type of fish, and is spiced so perfectly, I swear it brings me back to life.
